


His Peace

by cadkitten



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Coffee Shops, First Meetings, Love at First Sight, M/M, Running
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-14
Updated: 2018-04-14
Packaged: 2019-04-22 20:45:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14316825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cadkitten/pseuds/cadkitten
Summary: It’s a dreary day, the clouds hanging low and gray in the sky. When he looks up, he can’t even see the tops of the tallest buildings through it. It feels like it should be raining, but it isn’t. There’s no breeze and yet the slinking humidity of something that feels like post-rain seeps into his bones.





	His Peace

**Author's Note:**

  * For [YumiXusagi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/YumiXusagi/gifts).



> [Soundtrack I used](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0yW7w8F2TVA&list=PLHwn8cKeb1J2TOechY-gogb9DZNwIwzIJ&index=1)
> 
> Little bit of prompt writing... trying to get this stupid not-quite-block out of the way. I have ideas, I just don’t write them... no idea what’s going on.
> 
> @yumixusagi said I should write Tim/? for the same coffee shop orders prompt, so here goes.

It’s a dreary day, the clouds hanging low and gray in the sky. When he looks up, he can’t even see the tops of the tallest buildings through it. It feels like it should be raining, but it isn’t. There’s no breeze and yet the slinking humidity of something that feels like post-rain seeps into his bones.

Tim pushes his hair back from his forehead, zips the hoodie of his track suit all the way to his neck and sets out for his daily run anyway. He’ll be a sweaty mess by the time he gets home but he needs this, needs this outlet to run from the ghosts of his thoughts, to escape the crushing weight of his thoughts for even an hour and when he’s running, his feet pounding pavement, his mileage eating up the world between him and tomorrow, he’s at ease.

He tucks his earbuds in and ramps himself up from a gentle jog until he’s running like his thoughts are trailing behind him, trying to catch up. His mouth moves to the words of the songs that flit across the station he’s chosen.

_I’m gonna love you, like I’m gonna lose you._

He pauses for a light, keeps his heart rate up by dancing in place like it doesn’t matter that he’s in public, that he’s in the midst of twenty other people on some corner in the midst of Gotham. He dances like there’s a partner in his arms, like he’s whispering the sweet words of the song to them as he mouths them to the air.

If the people around him are giving him strange looks, he doesn’t notice.

The light changes and he bolts across the street, chews up the pavement, weaving between pedestrians, his breathing hard and his muscles telling him he’s pushing it, but he doesn’t care.

Above him the sky opens up and the first drops of rain splatter the ground around him. He runs faster, his destination only blocks ahead and while he’d usually force himself to wind down on the next stretch of road, he shifts into overdrive and runs like his life depends on it.

The song kicks over and it makes Tim’s breath catch, shifts his feet from the careful rhythm to something so strangely out of sync he feels like he’s stumbling through his every step.

_I've been searching for a trail to follow again._

It feels empty and hollow in his chest as he shoves into the little coffee shop he always aims for. Outside the rain starts to fall in earnest, drenching the pavement and everyone behind him while he’s only a little bit damp around the edges, his sweat worse than the rain.

He unhooks one earbud and forces his breath to calm as he weaves between patrons and moves to stand in line. It shifts forward in a slow roll, the sensation of going from frantic to pending one he’s used to: it feels like his anxiety does, like he’s been shoved full of adrenaline and forced to stand still, like his heart is heading for the moon while his body is pinned to the Earth, gravity greater than it’s supposed to be.

Both registers open up at the same time and he chooses the left one, the guy behind him heading to the right and he plucks his other earbud out, reciting his order from memory. It’s custom, but not so far out of left field anyone would get it wrong. It’s maybe too sweet for this time in the morning and not technically coffee once he’s done with it, but it gives him the start to his morning that some simple home roast wouldn’t.

Three pumps white mocha, one raspberry, light whipped cream, and the rest of it the usual mocha. Somewhat distantly he hears the guy next to him get the same total as him but it’s not strange enough to stop him from swiping his card and moving off to wait at the other end of the counter.

The guy from the other register duplicates his efforts, leaning on the counter on the other side of the little opening where the baristas settle the drinks when they’re done and Tim allows himself an assessing glance. He makes it look like he’s studying the two orders sitting there but he’s really watching the way the guy cocks his hip, the way he tucks his fingers into the tight fabric of his jeans, up over a far-too-tight black t-shirt that shows off some abs that might just warrant such a travesty of a fashion choice. The sleeves are too short, too tight, and the guy’s muscles bulge under it. He shivers slightly at the hint of a shadow on the guy’s jaw and then up over his gorgeous cheeks up to crystal blue eyes.

The music in the shop flips from a commercial to a new song and he lets himself get caught in the words, allows it to pull him like a thread through the eye of a needle.

_Run, run lost boy, they say to me. Away from reality._

Tim swallows back the way it makes him feel, knows he shouldn’t be assessing strangers in a coffee shop. It’s an irrational behavior and he understands that ultimately he shouldn’t be allowing it, shouldn’t be lingering.

The barista reads off his order and settles the cup down. Somewhat distantly, he reaches for it, trying to steal one last glance before he has to tear himself away, before his thoughts have to catch up to him.

His hand closes around something that feels oddly like flesh and he gasps, pulling his hand back to find someone else’s hand there and when he follows it up to it’s owner, he finds it to be none other than his eye candy, who is now grinning amusedly at him.

The guy turns the label and shows it to Tim. “Pretty sure this is mine.”

Tim stares a bit dumbfounded at the label and then slowly shakes his head. “I order mine that way every morning. I just,” he gestures vaguely at the counter just as the barista settles a second cup down, calling out the same order again and his brows furrow in confusion. “Uh...”

The guy lets out a quiet laugh and reaches to pick up Tim’s drink, too, holding it out to him. “Same order apparently.”

Tim swallows down his words and lets his fingers slide over the guy’s own as he takes his cup and cradles it close, pinned to the spot by the desire to do something - anything - to prolong this moment. It’s not the order, it’s not the coffee, it’s just... he’s never felt like this before.

The door opens, pushing an icy blast from outside over him and he shivers, taking a step away from the cold - a step closer to the hunky stranger in front of him - and then it's like something magical happens. The guy gestures for Tim to follow him and they wind through the shop to the last high top up by the front windows. He settles and pushes a chair out for Tim, nodding toward it with a grin that just won't stop, and Tim's taken like he's never been before and he hopes against hope that he isn't reading this wrong.

_I hope you find your peace._

Tim's heart is deceptively calm as he takes his seat, as he leans forward and he takes his own personal leap. "I'm Tim."

The smile that curves the guy's face is brilliant, lights his eyes in a way that's nearly blinding and he feels like he's a million miles from Earth, like he's floating in the wide berth of space and all his breath's been stolen away. The guy offers his hand and as Tim curls his fingers around his, he hears something that sounds like forever.

"Nice to meet you, Tim, I'm Dick. Well, technically Richard, but everyone calls me Dick. Not that I _am_ a dick, but... you get the idea."

Tim laughs despite himself, feels like a hundred things have eased in the span of a second, as if the weight of his demons have been left outside in the rain while he's found heaven right here in this coffee shop and it doesn't even matter to him if it's love or if it's friendship, he just knows he can't let go of this guy.

This is it, this is his peace.


End file.
